March 9, 2006
We knew that the visit to the NU Med Center would be hard. We had gotten information in the mail about stem cell transplants, and after reading it, both Charles and I were silent, greatly daunted by the descriptions of the procedures and the high possibility of a life afterward which would contain ongoing misery. That wasn’t the hard part, however, it was knowing that we would once more be looking at the reality of the disease and the possible outcomes.
It was rainy and gray, good for the land, not as good for the spirits. We picked up Heidi and arrived for the first blood draw by 1:00 PM. The Med Center is huge and teeming with people of all ages, and one supposes that the subject is principally cancer. We were shown a video about stem cell transplants and it augmented the written material we had read. Then we met with Dr. M. DeVetten, a highly respected leader in stem cell transplants and in MDS. He was a little man, not much taller than myself, with a turned up nose, and very keen light brown eyes. He had the already substantial folder on my medical history with the illness. We visited again about its’ beginnings, diagnosis, and present treatment. Then we spoke of options. There aren’t many options, just three. The one, which everyone has, is to do nothing, and that is unacceptable because it would be inviting death’s arrival as surely as driving a car blindfolded and at a high speed in heavy traffic. The second is the chemo therapy of Vidaza, which I am presently doing, and the third would be pursuing the stem cell transplant.
We talked everything through again, and at this time, we simply do not know what the future holds. Always, the percentages of surviving the disease beyond a year hover around 25% – 30%. Therein lies the hard part. One of the key indicators will be the next bone marrow aspiration at which time the “blasts”, those useless white cells, will be measured again. If they have increased, it will mean the Vidaza is not working as well as it must, and a stem cell transplant would be the only remaining option. How great the wisdom of our lives getting launched without the termination date stamped on the underside of our arms! Now I am thinking of all those conversations that have begun, “If you had only a year to live. . . . ” and how the thoughts could spin about and one could enjoy the possibilities because they never really applied. On the way home, we once again affirmed that we had hope in the future because of our faith in God’s ultimate plan for us. . . . a lifetime of care, great gifts, good days. . but oh my, it is not easy.